


The Lame Duck Office

by pipisafoat



Series: Abby Lyman [16]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Ableism, Anxiety Disorder, Canon Disabled Character, Coping Strategies, Disability, Disabled Character, Gen, Josh is Pretty Unobservant (But Not Totally!), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Seaborn Being an Ass, Service Animals, Service Collie, Service Dogs, collie - Freeform, invisible disability, panic disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: Sam says something incredibly ableist, Josh gets upset and experiences a bit of a difficult time, Abby has to alert more than once and perform some tasks, and Donna's memory is better than Josh's (when he's panicking and overly emotional).





	The Lame Duck Office

**Author's Note:**

> Another note on titles - "lame" is a very ableist word that we shouldn't use. I am using it in this title only because it is both an episode title and a reflection of the ableism shown by a character in this fic.
> 
> Content notes: ableism! graphic description of PTSD symptoms! healthy coping mechanisms! a high likelihood of you wanting to slap a favorite character!

“I met your new assistant finally,” Sam says, leaning in Josh’s doorway with his hands in his pockets. Josh takes a minute to smile at his friend’s probably-unconcious mimicking of Josh’s own favorite pose.

“He’s no Donna, but he’s good at his job.” Josh turns his attention back to the bill in front of him. Republican Senators keep trying to sneak in riders, and he’s doing a final read-through before taking it to the President.

Sam laughs, knocking his own elbow against the doorframe in the process. “You’re never going to get another assistant like Donna,” he replies, and Josh finds himself nodding even as he flips the page in the bill. “She used to joke about being Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff, did you know? I don’t think she realizes even now how accurate that was.”

Josh thinks she might have an idea, now that she’s trained Richard in all the actual assistant duties and come across so much she did in addition to that. “I’d’ve given her the title in truth if I could have,” he tells Sam, abandoning the bill to lean back in his chair and stare Sam down. He’s not really sure why he finds it so important to make Sam understand, but he’s willing to go with the impulse.

Sam nods and pushes off the doorframe, stepping into the office and sinking into one of the chairs in front of Josh’s desk. “Okay.” He tilts his head and reads the papers in front of Josh, but Josh replies before the younger man can change the subject.

“Sam. I would have.”

The younger man’s attention flies to Josh’s face, and he stares as though he’s studying for the bar exam for a long moment. “I believe you, Josh,” he says finally. “You’d’ve done anything to keep her working for you.”

Josh jerks back like he was slapped and even before he regains his physical balance in a teetering chair, he drops a hand beside his chair, wiggling his fingers. It only takes a couple of seconds - a couple of long, wrenching seconds - for a furry head to push under his palm. He rubs Abby’s ears in thanks for the support before just setting his hand on top of her head to quietly ground himself.

“That’s not how it is,” Josh finally says, unreasonably pleased that his voice comes out even and measured. “I’m glad she’s working for Leo now. I mean, it’s good for her. I’m glad she’s doing something good for her.” He believes himself, when even a week ago he knows he wouldn’t have. But he believes himself now, and that counts for more than Sam’s offhand comments.

“Only because she’s still in the building,” Sam counters. “You still see her all the time. Don’t … Josh, be honest with yourself if not with me,” he wheedles, sounding less like a concerned friend and more like the office gossip with every word he utters. Josh flexes his fingers on Abby’s head and takes a deep breath as Sam continues. “Don’t pretend her continued closeness isn’t why you’re okay with her new job.”

Josh swallows hard and feels Abby shift slightly under his palm. When he glances down, he finds his service dog sitting at attention beside him, gaze unnervingly trained on him. “I’m being honest, Sam,” he replies, tearing his focus back to his friend. “Having her nearby helps. It helps, Sam, but it’s not everything. It’s not why I’m okay with it.”

Sam studies him for a moment before relaxing back into his chair. Josh feels his own tension bleed out with that simple gesture. “So how’s the new guy settling in? Richard, right?” he asks, and Josh forces more tension from his frame as he imitates Sam’s body language.

“Yeah, Richard,” Josh confirms, slowly removing his hand from his service dog’s head. “Abby, mat,” he commands, hoping the gesture will show Sam they’re back on safe ground together. “He’s doing fine.”

The collie trots obediently to the corner of the office Donna had decided would be best and circles on her bed before lying down on her stomach, attention still firmly fixed on her handler.

“How’s he getting on with her?” Sam asks, gesturing vaguely in Abby’s direction.

“No problem. They ignore each other entirely.” While not afraid, Richard doesn’t like dogs very much, so Josh feels entirely secure in his new assistant’s treatment of Abby. He’s not likely to distract her while working if he would rather pretend she didn’t exist.

“She’s not afraid of his cane or brace?”

Josh blinks and has to think for a minute. He’s not completely unobservant; he knows Richard uses a cane, but he can’t remember the brace until he recalls a late night the week prior and his new assistant adjusting some straps around his left leg. “Oh. No, she doesn’t care. When they were training her, I’m told, they made sure she was okay with wheelchairs, walkers, everything. They didn’t know who she’d end up with, and really you never know what you’ll come across just walking down the street.”

“Makes sense,” Sam allows, throwing an impressed look at the collie who completely ignores him. “I think it’s kind of funny you ended up with him, you know?”

“No?” Josh glances out of his office to where Richard is typing something dutifully, wondering what he’s missed this time. “What’s funny?”

“You know, the guy with the service dog and the guy with the cane working together,” Sam explains. “Like you’re the office for crippled people.”

Josh isn’t particularly attached to Richard, not like he was - honestly, still is - attached to Donna, but he sees red at Sam’s words. Richard is sitting _right there_ , almost _definitely_ heard Sam’s insensitivity, surely has had to deal with that sort of thing since he got the cane and brace. He didn’t know his best friend was so casually ableist, nor that Josh himself would be the target of it, too - office for crippled people? His shoulders rise and his back comes off his chair as the tension floods his frame.

“Get out,” he bites out, grinding his teeth to keep any other words inside. He’s not surprised when Abby’s front paws land on his left thigh. “Get out _now_ , Sam.”

Abby shifts her paws to drape her front legs across Josh’s lap and leans her upper body firmly into his stomach. Her nose nudges his chest three times before she leans her head on his ribs to apply more pressure.

“Josh—“

“OUT!” he shouts, nearly dislodging Abby with the full-body gesture that accompanies his words. When the dog responds with resettling her weight, Josh closes his eyes and forces himself to lean back in his chair again. She repositions again to continue putting pressure on him, and he rests his hand on her head to focus, hoping it can calm him faster. He hears footsteps leave his office, hesitating in the doorway but ultimately exiting. “Four. Eight. Twelve. Sixteen,” he murmurs under his breath, focusing on the pattern of the numbers to push his anger and anxiety aside so he can function. “Twenty. Twenty-four. Twenty-eight.” Richard’s footsteps are distinctive, accompanied as they are by his cane, but the man stays silent as he shuts the door, shuts Josh off from the stimulation and attention of the bullpen. “Thirty-two. Thirty-six. Forty.” Josh knows his assistant is juggling the schedule right now, delaying any appointments until he comes out of his office on his own accord. He’s grateful for the silent support but at the same time wishing the man would help him like Donna did, or wishing for Donna, and wishing Richard hadn’t heard Sam’s comments but knowing he did, and— “Forty-four. Forty-eight. Fifty-two.” Abby nudges his chest with her nose again, and he struggles to push back the rush of anger at her action. He knows his heart rate is too high. He knows that means he’s close to a meltdown. He doesn’t need a damn dog alerting him to it!

Except he does, he knows he does, that’s why he has her. He takes a deep breath in for a count of four, holds it as he counts slowly to seven, and exhales on an eight count. Three times he does this before slamming his fist on his desk in frustration as Abby alerts his heart rate again. He knows his therapist has given him more calming exercises, but he can’t think of any of them. He’s grabbing the phone before he can think better of it, dialing from memory.

“Donna Moss.”

Just the sound of her voice, even distorted by the phone lines, helps. She spent so long being the one who kept him from flying apart that she can pull him back together without trying.

“Josh?”

He shakes himself and pulls his attention back to the phone. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

He huffs out a frustrated laugh and holds Abby’s head against his chest so she can’t alert him again. “I need help,” he admits quietly. “I can’t … I tried the breathing and the counting. Abby is on my lap leaning on me. It’s not enough but I can’t remember….” His heart rate spikes, and he clutches Abby’s head tighter as she squirms in his grasp.

“Okay,” Donna says in her calm voice, but not her patronizing calm voice. “Josh, you’re going to be okay,” she tells him without hesitation. Her simple belief is something for him to grab onto with both hands. “Lie on the floor on your back and let Abby do her deep pressure. Do you remember the 54321 game?”

“Hang on,” he says, a sharp edge of anxiety in his voice that he pushes down, away, with some more breathing. Donna stays quiet on the phone save for her soft counting along with his breathing, not blazing her own lead but staying gently with him.

“One thing at a time?” she offers, continuing after his nod as though she were standing there and could see him. “Let’s get you on the floor with Abby, with the phone on speaker.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nudging Abby off his lap. He reaches over and puts his phone on speaker, bends down to set it on the floor under his desk. He imagines what it must sound like for Donna, his chair rolling out of the way and him getting down to the floor bit by bit. As he shifts onto his back, he opens his mouth to give Abby the pressure command, but she’s already there, climbing carefully on top of him. She settles with her front paws on his chest, head resting on them so her nose is snug up to his chin. Her body runs the length of his body, all of her weight resting on him, hind legs splayed awkwardly on either side of his hips. Josh weaves his hands through her long hair, grateful she’s generally unvested in his office, and does two more rounds of counted breathing - in for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight - before Donna speaks again.

“Tell me five things you can see,” she prompts softly.

“Abby,” he answers, tugging gently at her hair as though to remind himself she’s real. “My desk. My chair. Filing cabinet. That weird stain on the ceiling.”

Donna’s laugh is uncontrolled and unexpected, and it’s one more thing for him to grasp. She’s probably remembering the day they noticed that stain, already somewhat less than sober on victory and alcohol. “Alright, four things you can hear,” she says, her voice full of the rest of her laugh that she didn’t let out.

“You. People talking outside my office. Abby’s breathing.” He hesitates, listens carefully in silence for almost a full minute. “Squirrels chittering on my tree.”

“Chittering?” Donna laughs again, and Josh feels his chest unknot a little bit more. “Anyway, three things you can feel.”

Josh unknots his fingers from Abby’s hair and runs his hands gently down her sides. “Abby’s fur. The floor. My belt.”

There’s a silence he wasn’t expecting - he remembers now what comes next in this exercise. “Tell me how they feel,” Donna says hesitantly. “Describe it for me.”

“You know what it feels like,” he replies, swallowing back a ball of emotions that he’s not quite sure if it’s anger or fear.

“Pretend I don’t,” Donna urges.

Josh closes his eyes and does another round of counted breathing before focusing back on the sensations. “I’m on my back,” he starts in a low voice, feeling like the exercise is somehow more intimate than before. “The floor … I feel it pressing against my back, mostly at my shoulders and butt. Abby is warm and heavy, pushing the small of my back closer to the floor. I can feel every breath I take and every breath she takes with her weight on me. Her paws are right on my collarbone. Cold nose in my throat. Legs hugging my hips. Soft fur under my hands. Her weight is on my belt buckle, shoving it into my stomach.”

“Good,” Donna encourages, no louder than Josh’s voice. “Tell me two things you can smell.”

He inhales through his nose, paying attention to what filters in. “I think they cleaned the carpet recently,” he remarks in a voice just above a whisper. “It smells … industrial? Abby smells like her cologne. That light scent you got her.”

“Cucumber melon,” Donna supplies.

“Ah-kay,” he agrees. He remembers it’s the same cologne, brand and all, Abby’s trainer at Dogs of Destiny used on her, but he can’t seem to hold the scent in his mind. With all the sensory work he’s been doing, though, he’s sure he could pick it out in a lineup.

“Can you taste anything?” Donna prompts, and Josh abandons the amusing thought of a scent lineup to run his tongue through his mouth.

“Not really.”

Donna hums, then makes that small sound under her breath that Josh has come to associate with her making a decision. “Abby, get meds bag,” she says firmly. The dog lifts her head and stares at her handler.

“Get meds bag,” Josh confirms, happy to ride whatever plan Donna has hatched. Abby clambers off of Josh and rushes to her corner to retrieve the small black bag in which Josh keeps several days of his regular meds in case of late nights as well as some of each of his emergency meds. She drops the bag on Josh’s chest and lies down beside him, pressed firmly to his left side with her chin over his heart but no longer pushing to be on top of him.

“There are peppermints in it,” Donna tells him; he’s somehow relieved to know that she’s been organizing his things even after her transfer to Leo’s office. “Get one out and suck on it. Slowly. Focus on the taste.”

He follows her orders silently, closes his eyes to help himself put all his attention on the mint. When it’s about halfway gone, Abby huffs and resettles herself with her nose in his armpit. He imagines she wouldn’t be comfortable there for long later in the day.

“How are you doing?” Donna murmurs, and Josh pulls his thoughts from crude humor to his body, his mind.

“Abby’s done alerting,” he tells her immediately.

“Good. You’re doing great, Josh.”

He smiles despite himself. From anyone else, he would feel patronized, but with Donna he just feels cared for. “I’m still pretty tense. Pissed off but not raging.”

“Do you know why?”

Anger flares again, but he swallows it with relative ease. “Sam,” he spits out, then takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. I don’t have to see him again today. I can finish the day without dealing with it.”

“Josh—“

“I will. After work,” he promises her, promises himself. 

“Okay.” He loves her belief, her trust in him. Noises filter down the line that Josh interprets as Donna shifting papers on her desk. “How late will you be here?”

“Um. One sec.” He sits up, pauses a moment to be sure his balance is right, and reaches for the daily schedule Richard always leaves on the front left corner of his desk. He ends up with a small cascade of papers in his lap instead - and damn those Republicans for not stapling the bill together; now he has to put all these pages back in order - but he digs through them until the schedule appears. “Jackson at five is my last meeting of the day, but it looks like I’ll be rescheduling Gunning from ten minutes ago, and I need to get going on that thing for Leo.”

“Today’s thing? I’m already on it. Hope you don’t mind.”

Mind? Josh smiles and pulls himself into his chair, pointing silently at Abby’s bed to relocate her. “No, but I thought you had the—“

“Done. Tillerson’s easy for me, remember?”

“That’s my girl,” he tells her without thinking. “Look, you want to tackle this together later? I’m craving Chinese.”

“Mm. That sounds great,” she answers. “You’re good now?”

Josh snaps his mouth shut and takes an honest inventory. Donna’s finally trained him out of the automatic ‘fine’, at least for her. “Yeah. I am. Thank you. I should get to Clifton now.”

“Do a job,” Donna tells him, her attention clearly turning back to her desk for her to be quoting Leo. “See you tonight."


End file.
